


after it all (but before the fall)

by malevon



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Insecurity, M/M, Words of Affirmation, projection is healthy right, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27554086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malevon/pseuds/malevon
Summary: safety comes with a new, old set of worries and insecurities for Jon.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 108





	after it all (but before the fall)

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi this was written in like half an hour because I needed to vent and this is the self-projection I needed
> 
> I don’t want to specify any sort of mental illness here because the only thing I’m professionally diagnosed with is depression/anxiety but I think that there’s some signs of RSD jon here. please let me know if anything is portrayed in an insensitive way.

After it all.

After the Lonely, after the train ride, after the hustle and bustle of unpacking and settling in and counting their eggs and checking the house to make sure nothing was booby trapped or what have you, after they’d cried in each other’s arms and declared that “loved” meant “love,” present tense, after they’d decided that sleeping apart was foolish when there was one bed they could reasonably share, after, after, after…

After trips to the market together, hands holding tightly like the grip is the last thing holding both of them in the present moment, learning each other’s favorite snacks and giggling like schoolboys when they throw them in the cart because  _ we can’t just have sundae Pop-Tarts for dinner, Jon _ , and  _ we’re grown men, why can’t we, _ and after truly,  _ truly _ settling in, after the sense of safety finally starts to sit in their bones and replace the weight of the world that’s been teetering between their shoulders for the last two years. 

After.

Only then does Jon realize that maybe this is  _ normalcy _ — normalcy, for him, though, comes at a price.

It brings old worries. He wishes there was a state of being he could exist in with none of those. It feels like he is either worrying about when he is going to get kidnapped next, checking around corners and looking behind him far too often (as if doing those things would stop something from capturing him) or. Or.

Or he’s laying in bed, staring at Martin’s closed-eyed face, feeling Martin’s fingers absentmindedly, sleepily twirling his hair that’s grown far too long, breathing in the same air that Martin is breathing out and  _ he’s a part of you, he’s a part of you, he’s a part of you but does he even want to be?  _ Or.

Or he’s worrying that Martin doesn’t love him. Feels trapped. Feels pity. Is only around him out of obligation. 

These worries aren’t things that have been on his mind since… since early in he and Georgie’s relationship. She was so out of his league, and he worried that, that she didn’t  _ actually _ like him, and was just. He didn’t know. Faking it? He didn’t know. 

“Martin?” the name comes from his mouth honey-sweet, just as Jon wanted, but damn it all, his voice is too soft, too quiet in that specific way that will make him  _ worry _ and Jon  _ never _ wants him to worry.

He worries. His eyes open, and even in the dark Jon can see that striking blue-grey, that cerulean shade that he’d need a sailboat to explore fully.  _ He loves Martin so much. _ “Jon?” he replies, his voice husky from half-sleep. “Wha’s wrong, love?”

Well. That certainly answered his question, then.  _ Stupid, stupid, stupid— _

“Jon?” Martin asks again, his voice clearer this time. His hand has stopped doing pirouettes in his hair, has pulled away and  _ no no no _ the contact is  _ gone _ and Martin  _ hated him— _ “What’s wrong? Can’t sleep, again?”

His cadence is so sympathetic. So soft. So  _ faked. An act, it has to be. _

“Martin,” he tries again, and Jon’s voice, contrast with Martin’s, is broken. “D’you love me?”

The answer is immediate and emphatic, so much so that it makes Jon shiver. “ _ Yes. _ ”

Jon is silent. Martin is silent. 

“Why do you ask?”

“I just. I. I’m.”

“It’s okay, love,” Martin croons, putting his hand back on Jon’s crown. He can’t help but lean into the touch, his back arching, and it’s this that makes the first sob break, his eyes squeezing shut to keep tears back but only succeeding in pushing them out. “Oh,  _ Jon _ ,” he can hear Martin sigh, and he’s pulled closer, into Martin’s warmth, into his being. Jon could live here, if Martin would ever let him. “Please, tell me. What could ever stop me from loving you?”

Jon sobs twice more, his breaths inhaling in ragged form and exhaling the same. “I-I’m sorry, I. It’s—it’s hard.”

“What is?”

“Being loved,” Jon answers, because it’s the only thing that he can think to use to explain this. His chest is burning so much that it utterly  _ aches _ and he refuses to believe that any of this is real. “It  _ hurts _ , Martin. A-are. Are you sure you. You want to be here? You can  _ leave _ , I, I wouldn’t hold it against you, you know you can leave whenever you want to I just need you to know that—“

“Jon,  _ please _ ,” Martin pushes Jon away ( _ pushes him away pushes him away _ ) enough to put a gentle, gentle, soft, warm, alive hand over his mouth. Jon could leave. If he wanted to. The grip isn’t restricting. Martin’s thumb graces over Jon’s lips, catches a tear and rubs it away. “I want to be here. So badly, I want to be here, so badly it  _ hurts. _

“Do you trust me?”

The answer is immediate and emphatic. Jon surprises himself like that sometimes. “ _ Yes.  _ With my life, yes.”

Martin laughs. It’s a soft huff of air, and his eyes, somehow, manage to soften more than they already have. Jon loves Martin’s eyes. They’re doe-like and hold sparks of energy that Jon can see when Martin is talking about something he’s passionate about. When. Hm. He sees the sparks sometimes when Martin talks about him.

“Then you have to trust me when I say that I love you. I love you so much, Jon. Jonathan Sims, I love you.”

He pulls Jon back into him, and Jon lets himself be pulled. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading this short little piece! you can follow me @malevon on tumblr or @mikecrewe for my tma sideblog


End file.
